


Baby it's Cold Outside

by thesadchicken



Category: Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Holidays, M/M, Smut, Snow, Teasing, Winter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-19
Updated: 2016-01-19
Packaged: 2018-05-15 01:23:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5766553
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thesadchicken/pseuds/thesadchicken
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim tries to persuade Spock to stay in bed on a lazy winter morning in Iowa.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Baby it's Cold Outside

**Author's Note:**

> Unbeta-ed work, please forgive any mistakes or typos.

Jim watched his bondmate sleeping in sweet surrender.

Spock looked different when he slept: soft, tender, childlike in his undisturbed slumber. His hair was tousled and his bangs curled up into tiny dark whirlpools on the bright blue pillow. His eyes were closed; he was completely serene, peaceful under the sheets and comfortable in Jim’s loose embrace. His lips were slightly pursed, still tinted a light green – irresistible.

Jim didn’t often get the occasion to watch Spock like this. He usually woke up to a starry-eyed Vulcan staring at him through drooping eyelids, lazy but very much awake. He had been surprised that morning to open his eyes and find that he had beaten Spock out of the arms of Morpheus. Last night’s gambols were probably taking their toll. _Oh, God, last night_. His stomach twirled at the thought, at how intoxicating it was, at how intimate and mildly forbidden bringing it up this morning would be. But that would have to wait until Spock was awake. In the meanwhile, Jim was basking in the afterglow of every memory the words ‘last night’ brought back.

He considered getting breakfast and serving it in bed. Home-made tea for Spock, warm replicated coffee for him. But he decided against it. He felt too snug and cozy in their little nest, sheets tangled around their legs and their bodies brushing in quiet abandon. And he was enjoying watching his bondmate in perfect restfulness. He was enjoying it far too much, in fact, but he didn’t care. He let his eyes rest on Spock’s collarbone. There was a dark green patch of skin there, a love mark, a reminder of Jim’s passion. Smaller marks trailed down Spock’s hair-dusted chest. The rest were hidden, concealed by the sheets that coiled around the curve of his hip. Jim fought the impulse to run his fingers over the tender skin around Spock’s waist. He looked back up instead, taking in the disarming innocence of his partner’s features.

He noticed a few wrinkles mapping the corners of Spock’s mouth, an almost imperceptible birth mark under his right ear, a scar chiseling his cheek. His skin was pale under the early morning light. He smelled of alien herbs and their lovemaking. He was undeniably the most beautiful sight Jim had ever laid eyes on.

And then suddenly, without warning, his thin Vulcan eyebrows quirked, his eyelashes fluttered, and his eyes were flung open. There was nothing lazy or languid about it: it happened all at once, and it caught Jim off-guard. He blinked back at his lover, blushing at the fact that he had been caught staring. He wasn’t embarrassed, and the blushing was certainly not bashful reserve; it was excitement and arousal thrumming through his veins and making him light-headed.

“Morning,” he mumbled, voice low and soothing.

Spock took a deep breath and closed his eyes. A smile fleetingly flickered over his lips. “Good morning, Jim,” he said levelly.

His voice crawled over Jim’s skin, lighting sparks beneath it and sending delicious tremors into every fiber of his being. _A very good morning indeed, Mr. Spock._

Jim slid his hands around his lover’s middle and pulled him in for a gentle kiss. The touch lingered, their lips barely grazing each other, their breaths mingling. Jim hugged Spock tighter, wrapping his arms around his bony shoulders. The Vulcan was cold under his palms, but not any colder than usual. Jim smiled, realizing that he had come to recognize Spock’s natural body temperature. A temperature he wouldn’t mind rising a few degrees right now…

“I must get up,” Spock said abruptly.

_Oh_. “What?” Jim pulled back and looked at his bondmate, all stupefied disbelief, “Why?”

“As you may recall I mentioned yesterday, I have paperwork that must be done before the end of the week,” Spock replied tonelessly, already tossing the sheets aside.

“Can’t that wait until afterwards?” Jim protested.

“It is New Year’s Eve, and your parents have planned a dinner party. I cannot postpone my work until tonight,” Spock slid off the bed and walked over to the drawer, unashamedly naked.

“Well can you at least do it in bed? You’re not getting dressed, are you?” Jim said, eyeing Spock pleadingly.

“I am afraid so. My PADDs are in the hovercraft.”

Jim looked out the window of his parents’ country cottage. It was snowing, and had probably snowed a lot during the night. It was undoubtedly cold too: the wind kept pounding against the glass.

“You’re not really going out there?”

Spock turned towards him and gave him a single raised eyebrow as an answer, before plunging back into the drawer to extract a pair of black pants. Jim reluctantly pushed himself off the bed. He wasn’t going to give up that easily.

“It’s freezing–”

“I must go.”

“–literally freezing. You’re going to regret it the moment you step outside.”

“It is only a short trip to the hovercraft,” Spock reasoned, folding his pants over his shoulder and grabbing clean undergarments.

Jim snatched the clothes out of his bondmate’s hands. “Come on, Spock.”

Spock’s chest heaved a little – almost a sigh. “I must go, Jim.”

“You already said that.”

“You have not persuaded me to stay yet.”

And there it was: the slightest glimmer of challenge in those dark eyes, the smallest flirtatious smirk on those thin lips, and Jim knew that Spock wanted to indulge in this little game. _Playing hard to get; how very Vulcan_.

“Well in that case, Mister Spock,” Jim smiled coquettishly, “I guess I’ll just have to try harder.”

He tossed the unworn clothes somewhere on the carpeted floor and took a step forward. Spock pressed his back against the wall behind him as Jim got closer and leaned a hip against the drawer.

“You really don’t want to go outside,” he purred, biting his lower lip, “you wanna know why?”

Spock nodded slowly, almost shyly. Jim placed one hand on the wall and tilted his head upward, breathing directly into his lover’s ear. “Because I can’t have my way with you if you’re out there.”

Spock shuddered at the words, but when he spoke his voice was calm and steady. “I will not be so easily seduced into abandoning my work.”

“Is that so?” Jim grinned, “That means you’re going to leave our warm bed and walk out into the snow?”

“It cannot be helped.”

“Hmm,” Jim hummed musingly, “I guess you leave me no choice then. I’ll have to wait for you here – bored and lonely, and you know how I get when I’m lonely…”

“I may have forgotten.”

“I’ll be touching myself, Spock. And I’ll be moaning your name,” Jim whispered, pressing his body against his bondmate’s.

Spock trembled again, but he seemed to regain control faster this time. His hands slithered down Jim’s chest, dangerously nimble fingers pinching and prodding… _Oh no you don’t_ , Jim smiled, and his tongue flickered over a sensitive pointed ear.

“Oh Spock,” he moaned, deliberately provocative, “but if you considered staying… the things I’d do to you…”

The tiniest of groans escaped Spock’s lips and his hands became shaky as they rested on Jim’s stomach, hesitant, docile, asking for permission.

“No,” Jim murmured, “not like that.”

He held both Spock’s hands in his and brought them up to his mouth. He placed a soft kiss on each knuckle, eyes fixated on his lover, and the Vulcan’s lips twitched.

“Jim –” he started.

“Shhh. I want to make you feel good.”

Their bodies brushed again, and Jim was now extremely aware of Spock’s budding erection nudging his thigh.

“Tell me what you want,” he muttered, looking straight into his bondmate’s eyes, pointedly avoiding any more physical contact.

Spock was about to say something but swallowed it back. He stared at Jim in mild amusement instead, a smirk hovering at the corner of his mouth. He was infuriatingly attractive, tall and lean and naked in the bluish light of the morning. Jim bit his lower lip.

“Tell me…” he said insistently, the words spiraling off his tongue in needy haste.

Spock leaned in slightly, running his palms over Jim’s forearms and rolling his hips so that their erections touched. “I desire you inside me,” he whispered, and it was so prudish, so timid, and yet burning with hunger – the blend was simply intoxicating.

Jim resisted the urge to push Spock against the wall and take him right there. Instead, he gripped his lover’s hips and held them in place. “How do you want it? How do you want me to fuck you?”

Spock groaned deep in his throat. “I want… I want you to fuck me hard.”

The words sizzled like flames, reaching Jim in their fiery ardor, making him sway. He slammed one hand against the wall next to Spock’s face and leaned in further, keeping the other hand on Spock’s waist for balance. He had rarely seen his stoic Vulcan bondmate give in to the game so impulsively, and he had never heard him use dirty language. It was almost surreal. He wanted more.

“Oh God,” he moaned, “Say that again.”

“Fuck me hard, Jim.”

Spock’s voice was deep and rumbling and pleading. Jim couldn’t stop himself from plunging in and claiming his bondmate’s mouth, kissing him long and hard. When he pulled back, out of breath, he felt Spock’s hands cupping his backside and pulling him closer. He slipped one thigh between Spock’s legs and placed quick passionate kisses along his neck. “Sex first, breakfast later?” he panted.

“That would be agreeable,” Spock breathed.


End file.
